Page 94 of Tame Our Wild

Riding.

She doesn’t want me to stop riding.

Tears burn behind my eyes, my heart breaking for my sister. Splitting in half like the dream we had together because she won’t be a part of it anymore. “Paisley, I can’t. Not without you.”

She lets go of my hand, struggling as she tucks her fingers into a fist, all except her pinkie finger.

Paisley wants me to promise that I’ll still try to make it to the PBR. Even if it’s without her.

I press my lips in a line and shake my head, the first few tears falling onto my cheeks. I can’t. Not without her.

Using what little strength she has, she juts her finger out farther, her blank eyes not straying from me. But our promises when we were thirteen in the field on that summer day hang in the air. If getting into the PBR will make her happy, I’ll swallow my fear after her accident and push forward for her.

For her, I will always push forward.

Blowing out a breath, I hook my pinkie finger around hers. “I promise.”

Then, like my promise brings her peace, I watch as my twin’s eyes fall closed, her pinkie finger going limp around mine as the steady beep drowning the room shifts to a solid hum.

Don’t stop.

Don’t stop.

DON’T STOP.

“Please stop,” I mumble, closing my eyes, as I shovel more dirt and spread it across the ground. I don’t know if I’m talking to my sister or the painful memories that have been on repeat.

Everything fucking hurts.

“Colson.” Paisley walks toward me, her worry written all over her soft features. “I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this anymore. You’re so unhappy, and you have so much left to live for.”

Fresh dirt spills across the old arena around me like it always does this one day out of the year, before I plant the sunflower seeds. The one day I allow my grief to surface—to bleed through my barriers. But this is the worst it’s been. This is the worst it’s felt because I know she’s right.

“I told you I wouldn’t stop riding,” I mutter, bending down to reach for the whiskey bottle next to my feet. I take a swig of the liquor, the alcohol tasting like water on my tongue. It pools like a weight in my stomach. “I’ve kept my promise.”

Between the sun and the buzz, my body feels like it’s being engulfed in flames. Liquid fire drenches my muscles, my blood coursing through my veins like hot acid. Sweat drips down my temple, my body an inferno I can’t extinguish.

“You have kept it.” Paisley’s soft brown hair falls over her shoulders, her mouth pulling up into a genuine smile. It’s so pure it hurts, just like my head. “But do you remember the promise I made you?”

I swallow. She doesn’t have to remind me. It’s why she’s still here. I don’t speak.

“I told you all those years ago that when you got hurt, I’d be there to make you feel better. Like you, I’ve kept my promise. But you’ve been hurting for seventeen years since we sat in that hospital room and said goodbye, Colson. Since then, you’ve ignored your pain. You shoved back your fear of how much this sport can take because you had to push through it when I asked you to keep competing. Your fear is surfacing, and it’s shifting into something you don’t recognize.”

“You’re wrong,” I choke.

Gripping the neck of the whiskey, I growl, pulling my arm back before I throw the bottle across the ring. The glass hits one of the metal rails, shattering. The bang reverberates in my ears, muffling my sister’s voice in my head, which has always had a relentless grip on me.

“I’m not.” She shakes her head. “All these years, you’ve never healed. I’ve watched you through every win. Every fall. But I’ve also seen you continue to pour whiskey and liquor on an open wound with nothing else to help the healing process. Then, Harlow came along a few years ago, and it wasn’t just because she reminded you of me—her injury was the first reminder that those things you never dealt with were still festering, affecting you in ways you’ve never tried to fix. Now, I think you know, deep down, that helping Harlow was never about helping her hide her fear; it was you trying to convince yourself that you needed to rehide yours so you could keep going.”

That comment pulls a sharp breath from my lungs, my body swaying before my knees crash to the ground. The liquor is sour in my stomach, and a throbbing pulse is smashing against my skull.

My twin doesn’t hesitate; she follows me down to the hard earth, sitting with me while I wallow in my despair. I slam my eyes shut like I can block out this conversation. When I reopen them, they are blurry but settle on her kind ones.

“Why do you think you’re fully breaking now?” she asks me.

“I don’t know.”

Her voice is soft. “Yes, you do. You’re breaking because you are finally letting yourself wonder what life would look like without bull riding. Without me.”